Part One: The Origin of Dragons
by L.Marks
Summary: Features Morgana and Merlin, and a history of the enchanted world that reaches further back than a history of Rumpelstiltskin - because, after all, what did come before the Enchanted Forest? New characters introduced. Same AU as 'The First Curse of Storybrooke'
1. Survival

Dragons, as the world now knows them, are by far a pale shade of what they once were. For, in the distant history of the enchanted world, the Dragons were a race of impressively gifted mages. They were bound by a single powerful magic, abilities they all shared: they could sense another Dragon's emotions or intentions, feeling conflict disturb the air or hearing music in another's sorrow. They valued the most beautiful things in the world, the simple things that could take your breath away with their elegance, and they strove to make their grandest achievements just as beautiful. Perhaps the most important trait shared by them all was a single-minded, wholehearted, concerted drive to push their knowledge and magical prowess to the limits.

Nothing was impossible in the City of Dragons, and nothing would ever be out of their reach. And just as they had all inherited this compulsion for beauty and wisdom, and a single form of magic common to all, every individual was born with a unique gift of their own. This gift could be anything - an affinity to a certain element, a sense for healing or for teaching, or for finding things. But without the shared identity of a Dragon, they might never have been able to put their skills together quite as effectively, to awe the world, to threaten it without force, and ultimately to leave behind a legacy unparalleled by their successors. No Kingdom, no Empire, and no Magic would ever be as powerful and learned as that in the Time of Dragons.

In Rumpelstiltskin's day, already there was little left of their memory but a whisper, held onto by a select few. Their legacy eventually passed unclaimed as people forgot of the very existence of such a race. And eventually, even that legacy - all their work and knowledge - passed from the world, forgotten, as the number of those able to decipher their impressive and astonishing advancements dwindled. After the fall of their civilisation, a darkness descended upon the world around, upon lands that had not even known of their existence or their power.

But nothing can stay lost forever.

* * *

><p>Miranda reappeared in the castle alone, early morning before dawn. Tired beyond reason, she fell into her armchair and closed her eyes, but her mind buzzed uncontrollably - she would never fall asleep.<p>

"What sort of a time do you call this?"

She immediately straightened up in her chair. "Oh, it's you, Ariel," Miranda laughed, relieved. There he was, leaning against the door frame in the pale blue light, smiling at her.

"It's barely dawn," he remarked, and stepped closer to the window. "It's very beautiful."

A twinge of pain passed unnoticed across Miranda's face. "Ariel? The city is gone."

His smile vanished, and slowly the weight of her words became evident in his expression. "Come, take a walk with me, Miranda." He stretched out a hand, and as she grasped it they were linked by a single ribbon of magic, rose-coloured as the clouds first warmed by the sun. They vanished from the apartments, reappearing in the Gardens below.

"See? So not all our world is destroyed," he said, as they sailed barefoot from the air and onto the soft grass. He swept his arm regally to the side and a rain of dew fell from a bush along the far wall of the garden.

Miranda inhaled deeply, feeling the cool wind on her face. "Not for us, perhaps. We weren't there when the fighting broke out. Imagine what happened when they lost faith in that magic, though."

Ariel shook his head. "I don't need to, we've seen it."

They had seen it, all of them: Miranda, Ariel, and their three daughters, and every single other Dragon in the world that had escaped the Red City before the fighting broke out. In nightmares they had seen the city's fall, with the most powerful mages of the world at each others' throats.

"There is nothing left but dust," she replied bitterly. "Not even bones. And there were ruins, I know there were pieces that were still nearly whole - I saw them, I watched them vanish before my eyes. They've scattered themselves in faraway places, worlds we can't even imagine. The city itself refused to stand."

Ariel sighed and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "So it's gone. Our way of life, our history, irrevocably lost and scattered throughout the world. But life goes on - it doesn't all turn on the Dragons' existence anymore. Consider, for a moment, how arrogant we all were, to think that we had the power to decide to withhold our knowledge from the outsiders. That was unbelievably foolish, for a race that prided itself, above all, on its wisdom. I'd say the world's better off without us running the show."

Miranda laughed aloud, surprised at his rather uncharacteristic tone. "Really, Ariel, cynicism does not become you. Besides, Dragonkind will always run the show. You don't have to be a descendant of the Red City dwellers to have a passion for knowledge, perfection, and beauty."

"Well, at least you're smiling again," he said, even as her smile chilled and faded. "Or - never mind."

Miranda sighed heavily and looked up at the horizon, towards the rising sun. "Remind me, Ariel. Remind me of all the things we have to celebrate. It wouldn't do to look grim."

Ariel stepped close behind her and gently laid his hands on her fallen shoulders. "The King wants Anika to marry his son, just as soon as the boy returns from his tour of the world. We're sending Morgana away to train with a fearsome old Dragon. Leyna is finally beginning to show some signs of magic."

Miranda managed a small smile. "Is that all?"

"And you and I, and our three daughters, have survived the bloodiest and fiercest war in history. We're alive, Miranda. That's the real victory."

"It's quite a bitter one. I feel every inch a coward and a traitor for abandoning them."

There was a tense silence. "Do you feel we were wrong?"

For another moment, she considered the dark apprehension in Ariel's voice, remembering why they had fled the city, remembering that they had not wanted to.

"I remember who we did it for, Ariel, and I do not think for a moment that we were wrong. Anika, Morgana, Leyna - I say their names every night, when I kiss them to keep their nightmares away, but that kiss meant nothing when the city fell. We all heard the screams. The pain and terror we saved those girls from, they saw it in their nightmares all the same. I can't help feeling guilty for leaving the others behind."

He pulled her back into his arms gently, and rested his chin on her head. "No one said victory was always sweet, Miranda. But I will say this - we are not traitors. The real traitors are the ones who turned their backs on everything our people believed in."

Miranda closed her eyes and thought of the warmth of the rising sun on her face, breathed the clean air that smelled of the sea, and of the cold in the mountains. She thought of the first city the Dragons had built, long before she was born, set right into the mountainside and facing the sea, and for a moment she thought she was there. And to think, had it not been for the reawakening of an old volcano, they would never have been forced across the sea and down south along the river, into the desert, to build the Red City…

"The Minevar had said, our magic made us the same," she remembered, "that it was the bond that held all Dragons together. How did we manage to break it?"

"Shhh," Ariel muttered into her hair, "it's too late to fix that. Enjoy living, for just one sunrise in your life."


	2. Master Yen Sid

Morgana's mother and Master Yen watched her from a distance as she laughed and played with the dogs out in the field. Confused, even disappointed, Master Yen shook his head and gestured hopelessly at her. "She's only a child, Miranda, I cannot train her. She's too happy here. And with my training methods, I'm sorry to say it, but the girl won't last a day."

Miranda laughed. "I think you'll find her more resilient than that. That girl out there, she cured a plague in this kingdom in two days. She has seen suffering the likes of which no privileged noble would ever be allowed to see."

"Well, if she is as powerful as you say - though, Miranda, that is rare in a child."

"You and I know exactly what can happen if magic is uncontrolled, uncultivated. And the more powerful the child, the worse it gets. But even more importantly, she has to hide who she is and what she can do. Healers can't do that - not when they're young. They want to help people, they want to protect those who surround them, and they don't see reason to restrain themselves. Frankly even as a grown woman I can hardly understand why I should withhold my help when it is needed. It's what destroyed our people in the first place."

"The people here shouldn't mind her magic that much, I should think."

"Trust me, it's not the people of this kingdom she has to fear, they are very grateful. Master Yen, when we first came here, the King was awed by the mere threat of what we could possibly do. Her sister has power over ice - she could freeze this place in seconds. Morgana has power over the sea, and between the two of them, these girls could control the entire trade. So he made us rich and gave us titles, and granted all our requests: access to the libraries, introductions to their brightest minds. You don't think the others here are pleased with the situation, do you? Not only are we magical, but now we have more power simply because of the mere possibility that we might hold the city to ransom."

"Miranda, that's no reason to take a girl from her home."

"She can't control what she does, Yen. That makes her the biggest threat they know."

"If you knew how I trained my charges, you would never let me near her. My methods are - shall we say, unorthodox? Not at all like you remember."

"What makes you think I don't know?" Miranda's eyes flashed dangerously. "My Anuk came back to this place because she nearly killed your apprentice. Morgana is not like her sister, she can't accidentally kill someone. I sent her to you because she needed to learn to control her powers, and she felt that we could not help. When she learned at last that no one could help quite like her sisters, she returned to us, so in a way your training was not wasted on her."

"Merlin is as likely to a kill that little slip of a girl as your daughter was to kill him. He still doesn't know how close he came."

"To killing, or to death?"

"Both."

Miranda shrugged. "Look, you are one of the few survivors who remember what our magic meant. Master Ben taught her much before his death: at least give the girl a chance. She can't stay here, not until these people grow a touch more accustomed to us. Politics I can handle, but I wouldn't want anyone to come near her."

Yen sighed as Miranda turned on her heel and swept out regally. Only the Old Dragons had that air, he found - regal, unbroken. And yet, they refused to wield power over others. How fortunate she was, Yen thought, that her family had escaped before The Collapse - before the magic that held the Dragons together broke and vanished. How fortunate that she had listened to him, and to Master Ben, when they came to her on the very eve of war, begging her to leave, to get her children out. He turned again to the field, where a young girl in a dark navy gown was running after her favourite puppy, laughing. She was too happy here, to just take from this place. He felt a momentary twinge of pain in his heart.

It wasn't home, but it was warm and beautiful, and there was peace. No fighting, no cries of the wounded and the dying - to her, it must have seemed so long ago, but he could remember the sounds as clear as if it were just yesterday. His chest tightened intolerably as he remembered the pain of his many ragged wounds, the smell of smoke thick on the air, the groans and the screams of the dying, the terrible cries of those who unleashed volley upon volley of magic so powerful and toxic, it had never sullied the hands of a Dragon before. Suddenly he was there again, or the war was around him - the fighting, the raw force of it clamouring about his ears.

The girl stopped dead in midstep in the field and whipped around, piercing eyes directed right at the old mage as he doubled over and staggered forward. He didn't see the horrified look on her pale face, he saw nothing but darkness.

He was remembering how many times he had almost died. When the Dragons' magic failed, suddenly none of them could fly - save those who were most gifted in control of the air. They were perhaps the most dangerous of them all: Yen still remembered, better than all the other times he had been attacked, injured, nearly killed - he remembered having the air sucked right out of his lungs. And now, he was reliving it: doubled over - drowning, with his feet firmly on the ground, blackness swirling in his eyes. But he was also reliving their deaths at his hand, when in what he believed were his final moments he unleashed a storm of fire that consumed everything it touched. Even claimed the life of his closest friend.

If Morgana had little experience with war, she had plenty of experience with nightmares - her own and her sisters'. Though she had been just old enough to understand why her family fled before the war broke out, they had all been plagued by many a sleepless night, even little Leyna. It was, perhaps, the other side of being the last Dragons held by the Link: they heard the fall of the City as clearly as if they'd never left. But she'd never heard so much horror and pain and grief at once in one person.

A pair of small hands grasped Yen's shaking arms and guided him slowly to the ground - he would have fallen rather than sat down on his own. He hardly noticed as his lungs filled with air again, and the air about him cleared of smoke. For a moment, Yen even imagined that soft music filled the air. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in another part of the garden entirely, sitting at the foot of a tree in a courtyard with a fountain at its center. The fountain itself was musical, and probably accounted for his hallucination: drops fell into shell-like dishes of varying heights, chiming sweetly and glittering in the morning sunlight. Yen looked up at the girl beside him, who in turn fixed him with a look of such deep and grave curiosity as he had never thought to see on so young a face.

He remembered her now: he'd seen her in the Red City with Master Ben - while other children played with each other, she played with magic under his supervision. In those days he had thought it immensely strange that a Dragon with a particular affinity to water should have been so steadily coached by a Master of Air. Now, he realised, she traveled with such ease from one part of the garden to the next, and he'd hardly noticed - only Masters with an affinity for air had ever been able to do that. She must have had a particular flexibility in her understanding of magic. Yen remembered then that her father was an Air Master, yet couldn't help but instantly wonder just how she would fare with fire. Only the Minevar had ever been able to comfortably wield magic of all elements, though he himself had always favoured Earth.

"Better?" the girl asked, fearlessly standing before a scarred Dragon who had seen darkness beyond imagining. The memories of the Red City's destruction were ever present, even in the background, but somehow she succeeded in filtering them out.

Yen rose silently and brushed himself off. "Thank you," he said at last. "You are Miranda's daughter?"

"Morgana." He nearly laughed at the formality of her gesture: she made a shallow curtsy, with her hand raised before her face, three fingers touching her brow, eyes cast down.

"This is not the Dragon city, and you are not before the Court of the Wise," he remarked with a smile.

"But you were one of the Council," Morgana replied, readily and simply.

"You are now a subject to this Kingdom, however. What is their formal greeting?"

Morgana reproduced a simple curtsy with a grimace, adding, "There is no such significance to their ceremonies and manners as there was in the Dragon courts. Their customs trade politeness, but do not bind them to their words, as our manners do. Our ceremonial and elaborate moves made it impossible to say one thing but think another, we spoke as we thought."

"You are right there, our honesty was embedded in our language and our magic," Yen agreed, adding to himself: _And now I begin to see why your mother would wish you to train with me_.

She was too honest and too open by half, and probably blunt in her delivery. He amended his judgement there quickly: she was smart, and likely smart enough to stay silent - but too silent to be trusted. Miranda had mentioned the girl's temper, however, and he wondered if she had perhaps offended someone important in a flare. She was too young yet to be sly, with a falsely saccharine smile and poisonously subtle irony. She had probably learned sarcasm at her mother's knee, and that certainly had enough bite to strain the limits of courtly charm.

"What else can you do?" he asked.


	3. Living Legends

It had begun quietly, slowly, so subtly as to pass almost unnoticed. There were slight tremors, a general disquiet in the air. A hot wind had risen in the last few days - hot and dry, and full of foreboding. Some Dragons understood the underground shifting of the earth, and some felt the rage of the fire building below. They could control the disaster, contain it, but that would only postpone the inevitable, perhaps even make it worse. All magic comes at a price, after all.

So the Dragons fled.

They had chosen this place as their home, for all that they knew its dangers: the ground was rich and perfect for planting, the city was built in the most defensible position, with one side abutting the Mountain and the other facing the sea - the perfect gateway for trade. And now in the eleventh hour, they realised their only chance lay across that narrow reach of water, on the shores of the kingdom that constituted their most important trade alliance.

When the first three Dragon ships crossed to the other shore, they were greeted nervously by the King of the land. The natives, he explained, feared an invasion. It was understandable, of course: Dragons had powers no one had ever seen, even those versed in magic. Dragons devoted their entire lives of to study and experimentation. No one had ever seen so many of them at once, either, and with a smoking plume rising in the distance, nobody knew what to think - so to be safe, they feared the worst.

One of the Council of the Wise, their boldest speaker and most highly respected Master, stepped forward to explain that their home had been destroyed. He had been among the first to feel the mounting pressure within the Mountain, and his forecast of a rain of fire and rock had been articulate and compelling enough to convince even the most stubborn of Dragons to leave. His imposing manner, his scarred, hawk-like face, his youthful vigour and startling charisma made Master Yen Sid the best representative of Dragonkind to the rest of the world, for the eldest Dragon had long since grown uninterested in the obligations of diplomacy, and reserved himself almost entirely to the study of Magic.

The King reverently bowed and once more explained his position. "Master Yen, if you stay, your people must become subjects of this Kingdom."

"No Dragon could ever serve anyone," Yen replied lightly, as if it were obvious. It was the most natural thing every Dragon knew.

"Precisely. I have great respect for you and your people, Master Yen, but your culture is a threat to ours. And our people will never know anything but fear of you. Not just for our sake, Master, but for all their sakes, I ask you to move along. You threaten our way of life without any intention of doing so."

A young woman, one of the youngest of Wise, stepped forward. "Then where do you suggest we go?" Miranda asked.

"I cannot say," the King replied honestly. "Wherever you go, I very much suspect you will be greeted with the same welcome as you have found here. I am sorry, but no Kingdom will ever accept your way of life. You are free to stay for a time, but I ask that you leave this place as soon as your people regroup."

Miranda nodded once, and left the King's hall. Master Yen smiled uncomfortably at the King once more and bowed, retreating.

"Miranda!"

She turned as he caught up to her in the Great Hall. "Master Yen?"

"That was hardly diplomatic of you, Miranda, don't you think?"

"And you think diplomacy means anything to them, coming from us? We are more powerful, Master Yen, and we are not like them. They will always fear us for our knowledge. But do you really think that we do not fear them?"

The old Master doubled back in surprised. "Why should we fear them?" he asked in surprise, almost laughing.

"That is precisely the sort of attitude that is dangerous. We are not better than them, Yen, just because we're smarter - we can't dismiss them as small or harmless. Don't you see? We don't trust them. It's second nature for me to know that you are surprised, or intrigued, or confused, or irritated, but we never know that with them. We have heard so many tales of men who called themselves our friends, smiled to a Dragon's face and buried a knife in the Dragon's back. We can't read them, not like we can read each other, and you know we will never really trust them."

"So what do you suggest? Where can we go? The only thing past this place, away from these kingdoms, is the desert!"

"Then, I suppose, that is where we go," Miranda shrugged.

Yen blinked in an oddly reptilian way. "Are you insane?"

Miranda cocked her head far to one side and stepped close to him fluidly. "Let's see what the others say," she replied, with a quiet challenge clear in her manner.

That night, as the other Dragons joined them on the shore, a meeting of the Council of the Wise convened on the sandy banks of Blue Serpentine, the river that supported many of the nearby kingdoms. Wars had been fought over control of the delta, its history was steeped in blood. Miranda kneeled down and took a handful of sand - pale and white even in firelight.

Master Yen, as their speaker, rose to inform them of the cold welcome they had met. "It seems that no kingdom will have us," he told them, "because we threaten their ways. Master Miranda here tells me that there are those among us who would find it difficult to trust the Others, even if they were to accept us. Beyond these kingdoms, there is only desert."

"Only the deadliest desert known to the world," someone interrupted. It was Master Ben, who personally thought the desert was a very bad idea - obviously - why would anyone need to be told that? He leaned forward against his staff, directing his disapproval at Yen.

"Yes, quite. Thank you, Master Ben." Yen was mildly irritated by this interruption. He believed Master Ben to be one of the lesser Masters. It was impossible to miss his irritation, for the feeling thrummed through all of them momentarily, so potent was his dislike for anyone he considered to be beneath him. Master Ben shrugged and sat back.

Miranda bowed her head respectfully in his direction. "Master Ben, it maybe the only place where no one will be unwelcome. Dragons have always lived alone."

"Or we could travel through the cities as artisans - we certainly would be the best at whatever we chose to do," the dark-eyed Jinna offered. She was fiery-tempered, as befit her own element - and she had been among the first to sense shifting within the volcano.

"And little by little we would lose members who chose to settle," another protested.

"Is that so bad?" she countered, but was met with a buzz of disapproval.

The Council of the Wise debated amongst themselves for a few long moments. The general feeling was one of unease, but begrudging agreement. Finally another Dragon spoke: "There is no knowing how long we can survive out there, you know that, Miranda."

Miranda nodded and left her seat, moving across to Master Ben and borrowing his staff. The others smiled at his mild flurry of unease, for they all knew he was very protective of it, and had even named it. Miranda cast a reassuring smile over her shoulder and returned to the center of their circle. "Come, Masters, we are each gifted with a particular skill. You cannot tell me that together we will not find a way to survive?"

She turned sharply around to face the direction of the desert and brought the staff down to the ground, sending a crack of blue light across the sand and into the night. Somewhere far off in the darkness, a pale blue glow returned to them, as if someone had streaked a thick paintbrush across a blackened canvas. "See? A month's journey from here there is an underground river - the source of the Blue Serpentine, the legendary Blackwater. We could travel along the river, through the cities - it would take longer, but no more than a week through the desert. Come, now, Masters: more than a month to ponder how to tap into the Blackwater, and how to raise a modest city to live in."

Someone laughed hopelessly. "Do you not remember the legends of Blackwater? Of the treachery in the desert and the dangers of drinking from the wells? It drives men mad."

"But we are not Men, we are Dragons," Master Ben shot back, as he rose to retrieve his staff from Miranda. "She is right. If we have heard tales of the City of the Sea created by folk of lesser powers, then why not make our home a City in a Desert? It's practical: we would be unassailable. And who better than us to try? No one else has the ability to reach underground waters, or to purify them, or to move the sand and stone to build a city in no more than days."

Once more the Council fell back into muttering and whispers as Miranda looked on. She was the youngest member of the Council, intrepid as if she were immune to fear, but even she sensed this journey could be treacherous - the journey, perhaps, even more than building the city from the ground. Magic of other lands was strange and unpredictable, and it changed people.

Finally, the Council seemed to come to an agreement: the air about them calmed, coming to order with general harmony. The oldest Master, an ancient nameless Dragon whose title _Minevar_ simply meant 'Eldest' or 'Wisest', walked forward to Miranda and bowed. "Young Dragon, you are not wrong. You have both caution and conviction, but while that is a good start, it is not enough to keep us all alive. Jinna, even you know the only way for the Dragons to survive is to stay together. Call the others."

The circle of the Wise broke and stretched into a line, facing the other Dragons gathered on the shoreline. The Minevar advanced two steps as they slowly turned to hear the Council. The old mage raised his head and cast a glance over them all. "Dragons," his amplified, ragged voice rising over their heads, "You know already that no kingdom will ever accept us as we are. We have two choices. The first: we choose to separate, to pick the craft nearest our magic, and become the best of our craft in the neighbouring cities all over the land. Or," he paused, with a real fire rising in his eyes, "we can choose to stay together.

"The second choice will bring us to the desert. There is a chance, a way to rebuild our world, though the conditions are potentially deadly. The only way we can survive is to stay together, to help each other - as we always have. But the choice is yours. Those of you who prefer to separate, you are free to go."

A long silence blanketed the shore. None of them moved. Miranda walked up beside the Minevar, marveling at the glowing thin fog that seemed to surround the still, silent figures on the beach. Some of them reached for each other and held hands, some pulled their children close. "We are all the same, held together by our magic," the Minevar said softly to her, as the fog spread and grew more dense, enveloping them all and reaching forward to the Wise. "And this is a bond that cannot be broken." The fog, having surrounded them all, suddenly billowed up and cleared, forming a shell in which the stars and moonlight were reflected many times over.


	4. The Jeweled Caves

Later that night, as most of the Dragons slept, Miranda sat tending to the fire, mostly staring into its depths and stirring it even when it needed no help.

"You could enchant that, you know," Master Ben spoke up behind her.

Miranda did not jump, but sat a little straighter. "I suppose I could. I just can't help thinking about -" she paused, not sure what to say first. Everything had been tumbling over in her mind.

"Everything, huh?" Master Ben laughed. "That magical net overhead, the connection between our people, the trek to the desert?"

"Especially the desert. What are we going to do there, really? Build a city?"

"Survive. What else? And why not build a city? You know, I've always wanted to see the desert - just to see what the fuss was all about. Deadliest desert in the world, what match could it be for a Dragon? I've always wanted to see the Blackwater, and the caves."

"I've always wanted to see the Jewelled Caves."

"Jewelled Caves?"

"Haven't you heard the old legends? Everyone remembers the childhood nightmares the Blackwater tales gave us, but no one seems to remember the good stories."

Ben seemed intrigued. "Tell me about them," he said casually, with the same lightness that most used dismissively.

To Miranda, his quick, softly uttered, off-the-cuff response was always unexpected, not to say jarring: her mind was whirring onward at a breakneck pace, and the idea that someone else might want to stop and regard a similar interest was a rare happening indeed.

"Ah. Well," she began, "it's the story of two brothers. The elder brother ruled an empire, and was fair and just, while the younger brother spent his days cloistered in the libraries with the leading thinkers of the country. Now, the Empire was a chain of cities and villages lying along the banks of a great river, and the Emperor's seat was in the North, at the mouth of the river. One day the Emperor heard talk of a rebellion of noblemen in the largest southern city, the City of the Moon. He sent his vizier there with all haste to bring order to the southern capitol. However, suspecting that the public so distant from his seat in the North might see the vizier as their new leader, he sent his brother with him, certain that the prince would never betray him.

"Together, the young prince and the vizier traveled by river down the length of the Empire, stopping at villages and in cities they passed along the way, for, the vizier claimed, they had to reaffirm their people's belief that the Emperor really did care for his subjects. Moreover, the river was treacherous, and their journey was likely to take several months - they had to stop for the hospitality of the villagers very frequently. Wherever the young prince turned, however, he saw poverty-stricken people, abandoned by their rulers.

"So as he traveled, he tried to right the wrongs he saw. They were traveling with a convoy, ships loaded with riches - thoughtfully provided by the Emperor to pay off any problematic officials or peasants in the City of the Moon, and win the noblemen back over to his side. But the prince judged that these riches were better spent along his way. He spent his days visiting the sick, for his learning made him a more capable healer than most of the villagers would ever see. He gave away money to the poor and the ailing. The vizier watched this, and occasionally warned the prince of folly, but agreed that his people loved him. Nevertheless, he prudently hid away some money to just buy off the most powerful noblemen.

"At last, the prince and the vizier reached the City of the Moon. They were met with celebration, for word of the prince's good deeds traveled fast throughout the Empire. The prince walked through the city freely, without fearing for his life. The vizier, though more cautious by nature, enjoyed the security and honour of walking at the intrepid prince's side.

"However, rumours crept back to the Northern city, that the young prince was better loved by the people than their Emperor. Worse still, the vizier's letters to the Emperor stoked up fear in the elder brother, planted and cultivated the suspicion that the younger brother intended to usurp his throne. He had heard, after all, that the money intended to bribe important leaders in the city had been given away in the villages - squandered, he thought, but the noblemen had somehow agreed to cease their rebellion. One can only imagine what our vizier was writing in those letters.

"Meanwhile, in the southern reach of the Empire, the noblemen did not welcome the prince. However, they welcomed the money given to them by the vizier, and for a while, they allowed the young prince to take the throne. The Emperor, meanwhile, completely lost faith in his young brother, thanks to the near-daily missives the vizier sent him - letters that arrived in only a few days, thanks to the vizier's pet kite, which could make the journey between capitols in less than a week. Thus the vizier became aware of the fact that the Emperor was amassing a small force to take back the southern city, and arrest his younger brother.

"And then one day, the vizier said to one of the noblemen that the prince walks freely among the poor, and confided to him that he was deeply troubled by this. What if some harm should befall the kind young man? What if he should be robbed, and perhaps even gravely injured? The nobleman, somewhat disturbed but the vizier's words, returned home to find a tremendous gift of four beautiful slave girls waiting for him, and a sum of money besides. That night, when the prince went out into the city to visit the poor and ailing, he was attacked by masked assassins, robbed, and left for dead.

"Now, the City of the Moon is a marvelous place, where magicians are everywhere, and always when you least expect to find them. One such was a passing traveler who came upon the fallen prince only moments after the assassins fled. This old and weathered man restored the young prince to his health and led him away to safety. He was intrigued by the manner in which the young man had been attacked, and set about trying to discover the assassins.

"In this time, the vizier had fully assumed power in the City. In a few days, as the city grieved and mourned the loss of their beloved prince, the vizier called upon his most faithful supporters to prepare their armies for war, as a large force had been sent from the North by the Emperor himself to bring the city to its knees, as vengeance for killing his brother. By the time the old wizard had discovered the assassins, and spoken to the man who hired them, and had reasoned out the political intrigue behind the vizier's manipulations, the Emperor's small force had been soundly beaten.

"But the old man did not give up easily. He sought out the Emperor and led his brother to him in disguise, claiming that he had with him the best healer in all the land, and that he had a story to tell. The Emperor agreed to listen, and as his younger brother tended to his wounds, the old wizard recounted the events that had led to the vizier seizing the throne, astonishing both men with his revelation of the vizier's meticulous betrayal. The Emperor would have then run into the city himself and torn the man to pieces, but the old wizard stopped him, arguing that the man who took away an Empire with cunning should not be threatened by force.

"So the brothers plotted with the wizard to take back their Empire not with strength, but by trickery. The wizard claimed that the people did not support the vizier, for it was really the young prince who had helped them. As for the nobles with their soldiers, they would abandon him the moment he ran out of money to pay them. So the old man traveled back with the brothers to the Northern City, spreading word of the vizier's betrayal and his advancing force as they went. The people believed them, for they believed in the young prince. When they reached the city at last, together the brothers emptied the vaults and coffers of money and jewels, and the wizard revealed to them a magical cave hidden in the cliffs at the sea shore. Here, the riches were stowed safely away.

"In this time, as the vizier and his men journeyed up the river, they were astonished by the lack of civility and hospitality in the villages that had been so welcoming on the previous journey. At times, the bolder peasants attacked from the trees along the banks, hidden from sight and protected by the branches from answering volleys. These guerrilla style attacks were neither frequent, nor effective, but they terrorised the mercenaries sufficiently to shake their morale, and indeed less than half disembarked at the walls of the Northern City. Though far fewer had been injured or killed, many more had simply decided that the fight wasn't worth the trouble for their meager pay. Even the promise of the glittering vaults of the North City could not hold them.

"At the city gates the vizier announced to guards that he had come from the City of the Moon, where the Emperor and his younger brother clashed, and were both killed on the field of battle. Upon reaching the grand palace and calling for gold with which to reward his remaining mercenaries, the vizier discovered that the money was gone. Slowly, over the course of a few months, his control over the Empire dissipated. He was a good leader, politically savvy and a skilful, manipulative liar, but everything seemed to have been set against him. And as if that were not enough, a member of the Dragon Council of the Wise arrived in court and demanded payment of a debt supposedly owed to him by the Emperor.

"It transpired that the vizier knew nothing of this debt. The Dragon explained that months ago he had loaned a considerable sum to the Emperor to support his effort in retaking the City of the Moon - a very important source of certain goods the Dragons traded with the Empire. The vizier had heard little of the state of the City of the Moon, but the force that had been defeated at its gates was more than certainly too small to have been paid for with the sum the Dragon named, along with the funds that had surely been kept in the vaults. The vizier reasoned that his mercenaries had likely been attacked by the Emperor's army on their journey to the North, and that the City of the Moon had fallen. In a panic he fell to his knees before the old Dragon Master, and begged for mercy.

"And then the Dragon revealed his bodyguards to be the two brothers, for he had been the traveling wizard. He left the vizier's fate for them to decide. They chose to banish him, but when he drew a dagger in desperation and flung himself at the young prince, who even then thought him a friend - albeit one who was misguided - the elder brother interceded and disarmed him. For this attack, his sentence was amended: he was to be released outside the walls of the City of the Moon, in the most treacherous part of the desert. The two brothers then approached the Dragon and asked how they might repay their debt to him."

At last Miranda paused, and turned to look out at the sunrise over the sea, then cast a glance towards the cliffs further down the shoreline.

"What did he say?" Master Ben asked quietly.

"He said they owed him no debt but to treat their people with an open heart, and to always trust and believe in each other. But when they pressed him, he said that the best way to repay him would be to keep the riches hidden in the cave, and to make the cave into a legend: only the true of heart would be able remove treasure from it, and only as much as they needed, and others would be trapped. This caused the Emperor great consternation, but the Dragon willingly conceded that they could at least partly refill their coffers, and promised them that their fortune would only grow.

"He let them take some of the treasure from the cave before he sealed it with his magic, then presented the brothers with a gift, a single smoky blue sapphire that he called the Heart of the Sea, that had been in their possession but the value of which they had not even imagined. He told them of its magic: if given as a gift or exchanged for a purchase that will brighten the soul, the Jewel presents the bearer with good fortune, so long as he is worthy of it - even if it passes from his possession. However, if it is stolen, the thief suffers an awful run of ill luck, unless and until he proves himself a better man."

"And you think the Jewelled Caves are here?" His smile and his tone were mildly incredulous, but no less intrigued.

Miranda shrugged. "It's only a legend."

"But legends involving us Dragons have a nasty tendency of being very real indeed." The two exchanged a concerned glance, then burst out laughing.


	5. To Train a Dragon

A few hours later, Yen sat across the room from Miranda as she paced backward and forward from the window to the shelf-lined wall. "Yes," he said at length, "the city is gone. I wouldn't have come otherwise."

Miranda shot him a look more questioning than irritated as she continued to pace. "Why did you leave? I thought you'd never leave, you'd stay to the end and watch it fall."

Yen nodded grimly. "No, that was Ben. Ben would have gone down with his ship, his beautiful Red City. He did help build her, and probably built more of her than the rest of us, with the possible exception of the Minevar."

"You never thought so highly of him before," Miranda observed with interest, pausing in her circuit of the room.

"Not until the day I had the honour of fighting beside him. I had never seen a Dragon in such control of his fury. He made knives of the wind, a single blast could cut through a man like a thousand shards of flying glass. You know, of course, when all this started we thought the Fire Elementals were the most dangerous, and the Air Elementals were always peace-loving and graceful. But, Miranda, when they turned, their hearts were blacker than the worst I'd ever seen. They could rob someone of the very air in their lungs.

"Master Ben did not turn. He saved my life, and from that moment, when I saw the magic he had wrought, I knew he would be the last one standing. Together with him I stood a better chance than alone, chasing after old friends in the hope that they might take it upon themselves to care for someone else and fight beside me. We made an unstoppable team: he brought the wind, and I set it aflame. Of course, you never know, in a war. I watched him die, Miranda. He was the last real Dragon left in that wreckage, to what hope he clung I know not. My hope died with him."

Miranda sniffled, and hid a stray tear. "So, what do you make of his student?"

"I can see why she'd be a right nightmare for politics. I can see she's very flexible with her magic - she moves like a Water Elemental, she can do things with water that I have never seen before. But I only ever knew one Air Elemental to take flight at a moment's notice, as if the Collapse had never happened, and I buried him in that city. And yet, she chooses to manipulate the air rather than rely on Dragon magic - which she still has - but she moves the air as freely as any Air Master."

"We say our children choose their Element, or are chosen by it, when they are very young, but I suspect that isn't quite so," Miranda replied thoughtfully. "Perhaps they mimic their parents."

"I've thought about that, but it doesn't apply to her. We say that Elementals are those who prefer to work with a certain environment over using Dragon Magic to accomplish the same goal - but even our system of sorting them as Elementals seems strange. Ariel, though an Air Elemental, is most at home over the seas and oceans. And you - you've always had a fiery streak: you were quite handy with lightning. But Ariel prefers manipulating air into wind and storms, rather than the sea. And you prefer riding on the waves and plumbing the ocean depths - no wonder you need light. Morgana moves through air like she has no preference. Only the Minevar could do that."

He thought for a moment before he spoke again. "In general, I suspect she is one of those few who is stronger in Dragon Magic than in Elemental work - which is saying a great deal, considering how clever she is with both air and water. I remember no one who understood it quite as well at her age, not even of my generation. She understands the power in the ceremonial greetings and mannerisms, and forms of speech. A pity, then, that our Magic is now obsolete."

Miranda instantly objected. "It's not obsolete. Rare, perhaps, but not extinct at all. There must be a few hundred who escaped the war - granted, not all of them before the Collapse. But those who did, they still have that Magic. There is little else they'd keep."

Yen shook his head solemnly. "Remember, working directly with an element is more efficient, if you know how. Dragon Magic only helps us where we are not comfortable. Master Jinna had said that if the Dragons separated, they would become craftsmen scattered throughout the world, and always the best in their chosen trade. They don't need Dragon Magic to help them in their element."

But Miranda remained unconvinced. "I don't know. In my experience Dragon Magic is always helpful, and mixing magics, if done correctly, gives a particularly potent result. In any case, whether you train her as your new Fire Elemental or as a Dragon, there is a benefit to any angle."

"And what of training her to be a lady of the court?" Yen asked.

"What, to lie and manipulate people? I can't ask you to teach that, I'm her mother!" Miranda protested. Master Yen appeared to be somewhat confused by her response. He suspected he knew exactly what she was trying to say, and a hint of amusement passed over his face. "I've seen you with the trade partners, it's frightening how you could change their minds -"

"I never used magic for that!" he protested quickly, but Miranda pressed on.

"It's more frightening that you didn't. Yen, Morgana is the sweetest, kindest creature the Dragon City had ever seen, in spite of her temper. I would never want that side of her to be corrupted."

Yen nodded, understanding at last. "I see. I cannot promise you anything. The responsibility of keeping her heart incorruptible is entirely her own. And with that sort of magic at her command - you were right, she is one of a kind."


	6. Merlin

"Merlin!"

Sid's voice thundered through the empty black halls of his castle - nay, fortress - the sound ricocheting and echoing as if he had called out the name outside among the Ice Caps. The castle itself, as his young student was beginning to notice, was not actually black, but an unsettling dark red, and though the girl was not easily frightened, she did find it a most unbearably gloomy sort of place. She considered carefully, however, that she should at least be thankful it was warm.

In a bold swirl of crimson, 'Merlin' appeared before them. He was perhaps a year older than Morgana - no older - and his demeanor was not particularly welcoming. He was likely displeased that his master had torn him from his absorbing and exhaustive study of some very interesting books in the library. The manuscripts had little to do with what he had been assigned to read, but those assignments had been dispensed with, albeit somewhat haphazardly.

"Yes, Master?" he bowed respectfully, though with a strained note in his voice. He eyed the smaller figure swathed in heavy furs, correctly suspecting that this snow-monster was what Master Yen had called him down for. He could hardly see the face of the visitor, but a wisp of long hair had escaped the weighty hood, and by the look of the water that dripped from the clumped fur, the person within that wrapper had nearly thawed by now.

Master Yen, too, eyed the heap of furs, with a hint of amusement in his expression. "Merlin, this is Morgana - your new sparring partner." He moved to unclasp the fur coat, but the girl sidestepped him so quickly, one might have thought she feared the old mage. Then she undid the furs herself and shook them off, revealing her slender frame.

She was not at all what Merlin had expected to see. Indeed, he hadn't expected to see a girl, but she was rather pretty - though, he thought, too young for the Master's teaching. The old mage sent her off to find her rooms: she was to choose any apartment, any place she wished. "Master, she's only a girl," Merlin protested quietly, watching her withdraw.

"Morgana is not only a girl, she is a very capable young witch."

"Morgana?" Merlin asked, surprised. "Master, I bested her elder sister in the first two sparring matches."

"The fact that she is younger is no indication of the fact that you will beat her as well, you know. Merlin, Anika is very powerful, but her gift is not sparring. Morgana may yet outshine her."

"How so?"

"She is a Healer, but no one ever taught her how to do it. Healing, as you already suspect, is the most complicated of arts, and requires the most energy - and yet she can do it at the drop of a hat. Now, get back to your studies. We'll see what the girl is truly capable of tomorrow. No one's ever taught her to fight either."

Merlin bowed and vanished.

* * *

><p>In another part of the castle, Morgana wandered from room to room, hall to hall, until, as if instinctively drawn to it, she found the library. She was homesick and lonely, and the last place she wanted to be was here, in halls of blood red glistening stone. She wandered through the dark library as well, in the direction of the shelves filled with books most interesting to a Healer, reassured by the quiet and the comfortable warmth - somewhere, a fireplace was crackling. Her fingers lightly brushed the books' spines, feeling the magic thrilling through them, eager to share its knowledge and power with her, until she came to the end of their rows, to that very fireplace. She paused here for a moment, eyeing the warm flames in uncertainty, then stepped forward to the mantelpiece and lightly fingered head of the Dragon on the side closest to her. The mantelpiece had been fashioned of red marble, but the Dragon was darker, almost as black as the walls of the castle. In its eyes were set smoky blue sapphires. Suddenly, it blinked at her. At least, she was sure it had. And then it spoke - a kind, deep voice. "<em>Tickle me,<em>" it said.

Morgana blinked back. "I'm sorry - what?" But the Dragon didn't answer. Uncertain, she stepped up to it and did her best to tickle the stone sculpture, stepping back quickly as the wall groaned, and the bookshelf nearest to the fireplace swung open.

Within, she discovered a room with a high vaulted ceiling and mess of books coated in ancient dust. The bookshelf swung back behind her, and as it sealed, the room itself seemed to sense the arrival of the first guest in many decades. A magical fire sputtered to life behind her in flames of a golden color - and the thick curtains that had covered the windows shook themselves a little and sprang open.

"This won't do at all," Morgana remarked, throwing the fur coat over her shoulders, inhaling deeply and closing her eyes. Her hands rose before her, conjuring a strong but slow pulse of air that raised the dust in a wave and picked up the sheets that had protected unused furniture for many years, shook them out, and sent the gray clouds out of the high windows that opened to release them. The books, too, rose, and shelved themselves carefully - but as this was not of Morgan's doing, she turned in surprise and watched as they flew about the room, seeking out their places.

There was something rather different about this library - not the mere fact that it was magical, for that was true of the whole castle: a torch had detached itself from the wall and followed Morgana as she trailed down along some of the darker passages, doors had opened for her and little gusts of air had directed her at several turns. The castle had beckoned to her, had led her to the library, then to the sculpted Dragons that were just like the ones at home. Only at home they'd never been particularly talkative, or ticklish.

But this second library - the walls were of a pale pinkish grey, not dark. And there were many more books here, as if Master Yen had hidden them away. And along the far wall, paintings - no, they were looking glasses! - held the images of other realms, the names of those far-off places engraved into their frames. Morgana sat down, or, rather, collapsed into one of the armchairs by the fire, and immediately a small meal appeared on the table beside her. As she looked around her, she noticed a spiral staircase that led to the second level of the library, and rose to see what was above the fireplace. There, she discovered, under a stained-glass skylight, was an alcove snuggled right against the chimney. It would be a warm and cozy enclosure to sleep in, certainly. Oddly, she noted that it didn't seem to be snowing, as she examined the stained glass.

She turned her attention back to her dinner. As she ate, the furs that had been draped over the back of the armchair conveniently dried. She retired to the upper level for the night and draped the fur over her feet, curled up in a cat-like ball, and fell asleep in mere minutes. Merlin, meanwhile, was in the library just through the wall, crouched over a book in the candlelight, muttering something to himself over a dark-looking spell. He didn't care much for sleep, or for his new 'partner'. Given the cold manner of his greeting, even Morgana could sense that there was no friendship here in this large castle. As far as Merlin was concerned, she was another challenge for him to overcome. The Dragons watched him poring over the dark books with disapproving forlorn looks.


	7. Raising the City

The Dragons traveled along the river banks to the south. Once, the villages and cities they passed had been part of a large Empire, but now they were largely independent, many of them more akin to small fiefdoms in their own right. As they traveled, the Dragons moved as a single large group, and generally kept to themselves, so as not to startle the native folk. They were met with expected apprehension, but some of the lesser villages were surprisingly welcome, and shared some of their meager living with the weary travelers.

One night, village elder approached them and asked for help, as one of the children had taken severely ill. The Dragons readily agreed, if they were permitted to stay for as long as they were needed. As the healers worked, many a traveler found ways to occupy themselves about the settlement, caring for livestock, mending fences and leaking roofs. Some of the Earth Masters even offered to help work the earth, for the season for planting was beginning, and even Miranda set up an irrigation system that would last for decades to come. They stayed three days in all, by which time the boy was running faster than ever, and the town practically shone, as if it had been completely rebuilt.

From that day forward, not a single town or village feared them or turned them away from their gates. It was a remnant from the days of the Empire, perhaps: the network between the settlements on the shore was remarkably well-established. The Dragons traveled by day, and by night the Wise formed their circle about a separate fire near the water's edge, and planned their city. They discussed what to look for when raising the earth to form towers, they commented on how to shape them to best control the desert heat, they argued about how to run the plumbing networks throughout, and about how to arrange the city as a whole.

It was, of course, a discussion of generalities: to really plan the city, they had to find the ground on which they would build it. But none of them had ever lived in a desert before, and they were quickly approaching the grand southern City of the Moon. Here, they would have to turn and continue their journey in the desert, to find the Blackwater. Twelve nights before they reached the city, Miranda mapped their surroundings again, and suggested that she travel ahead with an Earth Master to the Blackwater, then meet the Dragons back at the City of the Moon and report what they had found. Master Ben insisted on going with them. The Minevar then volunteered to accompany her as the Earth Master, leaving Master Yen in charge. Most of the Council seemed to accept the idea.

Twelve nights later, two dusty tired Dragons stumbled into the sleepy camp. Master Yen sat tending to the fire, and was rather startled by their appearance.

"You look like you've been through the Firepits of Ghal and back," he exclaimed.

Miranda offered some sort of response that sounded rather like a low growl. "That would seem to be an accurate summation," Ben grumbled, appearing behind her. He looked even worse.

"Monsters of Blackwater?" Yen teased, an I-told-you-so smile threatening to twist his hawk-like face.

"Fire-breathing, snake-like lizards," Miranda muttered. "Though apparently not very dangerous. Minevar was rather fond of them. He said, if the world should forget the very existence of Dragons, they should at least give that name to a creature as noble and loyal. He called it a _ghalji_. Ever heard of it?"

Yen shrugged. "The Minevar knows of many mythical creatures, most of which I've never heard of. I can never tell whether he's serious or not."

"I suppose it makes sense," Miranda sighed.

Ben nodded along, cutting her off before she could remark on the Minevar's age: "He's practically a mythical being himself."

Yen snickered in spite of himself. "Where is he, anyway?"

"He decided he liked the _ghalji_ more than us and stayed with it," Ben joked.

"Actually he decided he'd stay there to figure out how to purify the Blackwater, or at least make it safe to drink," Miranda answered seriously, "although he did seem to prefer its company."

"Probably because it knows the secrets of the Blackwater," Ben suggested.

She couldn't help but agree. "Probably."

Yen nodded thoughtfully. "What of the terrain?"

"Mostly flat, surrounded by hills. Very sandy - makes for excellent glass. The Minevar did mention that we could make a network of caves, though of course not over the Blackwater Caves," Ben informed him. "We probably have to flatten out part of the cliffs - they are about a day's journey through the caves, up to the source of the Blackwater. That's where he is now, communing with his new pets."

"He also mentioned that the magic within the land itself and the Blackwater is very potent," Miranda continued. "He believes the water to be a kind of portal to other lands."

"Yeah - I don't know, you think that's possible?" Ben interrupted.

"I don't see why not," Master Yen replied quickly. "We've all heard stories of the water guardians - Nyx, Vivian. Miranda, you're a Water Elemental - did you sense any other magical forces nearby?"

Miranda nodded. "An old one. They are very much like us Dragons, only they don't have a civilisation of their own. They live between worlds, I suppose you could say. The idea of being able to step from one place to another is quite fascinating, but it's not something that many of us have been able to do. The Glazier brothers have been moderately successful in creating portals, but the Minevar claims that we may be able to build the city in such a way that it can exist in all worlds at once, or at least lead to exits in other places."

"But of course that's not the point -" Ben cut in quickly. "The point is, how will the others take this? Do we want to build our city like that, or do we want to just build a place to survive in?"

"Until what? Until we can reclaim our home?" Master Yen shook his head solemnly. "It burned, or was buried in ash. It doesn't matter now what we left behind. If we're going to live here, we're going to have to build a city like we mean to weather centuries, or there was no point in ever coming. We've never shied from a challenge. And, believe me, we need to give them something big to think about, a truly fascinating problem to solve, just to keep the peace."


	8. Unorthodox Methods

With the first rays of morning sunshine, though the world outside was still grey and cold, Morgana sprung from her bed. Breakfast awaited by a magically kindled fireplace as dinner had last night, and the girl didn't dare question it. She paused only to skim a chapter of a book on architectural magic and history. From what she understood of the legends her mother had told her of their ancestral palace, some castles had been raised by magic, and the very walls and floors seemed to care deeply for their occupants. The Old Palace was in ruins and in quite another realm, but perhaps it was still accessible through portals guarded by the Dragons. Apparently the Dragon Guards of this castle did the exact same. She was no longer in Master Yen's castle, then, though he might have constructed his own in this bitter cold. He had probably used some of the foundation of the old palace, perhaps even unwittingly.

Master Yen held lessons on theory in the library, but practical lessons took place in a ballroom, with plenty of space to fling magic around and let it get out of control. The Nobleborns of Morgana's kingdom similarly occupied the ballroom for sparring matches, though not magical ones of course. Merlin stepped lazily into his appointed spot and waited a moment for Morgana to assume a dueling stance of some kind. It was, he believed, the first mistake people made: they believed there was some stability in the way they stood, and he would be sure to show them they were overconfident.

But oddly Morgana assumed no particular stance at all. She stood straight and proud, but unmoving, her keen eyes watching him as if she could anticipate his movements from seeing a single hint of a shift.

So he did not move. He shoved the air sharply at her, silent and unmoving as a statue.

It was quite a feat, really, for a young mage: silent magic, without any physical direction by arms or hands, or even fingers. Morgana, surprisingly, did not block the blast. It was visceral, powerful, full of bitterness and anger, and she felt that he might well have learned to make daggers of the wind. Nevertheless it did not hit her: she spun out of the way at the very last instant and shot back some sort of response as she did so.

It was admittedly a strange and awfully dangerous way to assess the opponent's strength - to stare down an approaching spell until the very last moment, analysing the magic that went into it. All the same, it was a reliable strategy. Morgana's answering spell was an invisible one that Merlin mistakenly assumed had failed. Yet he found that as he tried to move, he was bound in place, arms locked behind him, feet glued to the floor. His voice lay trapped in his throat.

Sparring was a children's game, he remembered Master Yen saying. It was unwise to let your opponent think something up. Don't start with your best shot, start small, even minuscule, but throw a barrage and never give them a chance to get at you. Quite often, the same magic was thrown back and forth, in different colours and shapes. Changing its form, the foundations of the spells - that was what required real craftiness. Never underestimate your opponent - that was Master Yen's cardinal rule. All he had wanted was to see what she would do, how she would react, and she had responded unexpectedly. He had failed - he had ignored all of his Master's lessons because a mere slip of a girl seemed harmless.

So how does one get out of a bind? Morgana was just eyeing him patiently, waiting for his next move - not very smart, he thought. But she'd dodged his first spell, perhaps she felt that kept her safe. And it was a tricky bind, but it ran all around him, almost like a shell of some sort. How bizarre and absurd: a protective spell used for restraint couldn't hold magic in - was she trying to force him to create more spells unnecessarily? If he were to just convince himself he was in no particular danger, he wondered, would that free him?

It didn't. Clever protective spell, he decided: one that the caster controlled. It made sense, of course.

She waited until he was free of the shield, and then waited as he stood there, took a deep breath, and began muttering short syllables to himself. He sent everything at her - bits of the knights' armour from around the room, the candles off the chandelier, the ancient ornamental vases. He peppered her side of the room with all kinds of missiles, but every time he looked up, she stood stock still and completely unscathed. Confused, he hesitated a moment.

That was a mistake. Morgana grinned, and stepped forward, and a silvery net shimmered loosely around her. She had cast a similar net over herself, he realised, just as he had broken free. And since she controlled it, she was free to move within her own shield. It was a clever move, he thought as the shining strands unfurled and began to slither in his direction - but it meant two things: one, she could not hurt him if he was trapped within it, and - two, if she used this magic and converted it to attack him, she was herself defenseless. She was resourceful, and also very conservative - a good method for saving one's strength against a more experienced opponent.

Even as the wires shot forward to knock him from his feet, he snapped the cord that held the old iron chandelier. A silvery magic snake struck at his chest and knocked him off his feet, but he did just catch a glimpse of the falling iron wheel. She hadn't been quite under it, but it might have caught her head. Her snake meant to make quick work of him, he realised, as he wrestled it away from his throat.

There was no metallic clang, nor crack of iron hitting bone. Morgana didn't even scream: the chandelier hung like a spinning hoop in the air, just over her upraised hand. There was an odd light in her eyes, a morbid curiosity, as she watched him with the snake. She could have it wrap around him and throttle him if she wanted: just how far Master Yen would be willing to take this match? At the moment, it seemed oddly close to deadly, considering Merlin's trick with the chandelier. Pelting her with pottery was one thing, but a heavy iron fixture?

The wheel above her hand began to spin faster. Merlin had been getting the hang of the snake, bit by bit, and was apparently working on a transformation to what seemed to be a nasty long lizard, presumably to send in her direction. By the time he had finished, the wheel was spinning fast in the air. For a bold touch, Morgana added fire: a flaming hoop for his lizard to jump, he thought. She still had that grin on her face.

He didn't have to wonder long what she was about to do: the lizard had almost reached her when the wheel crashed down just along its back. Its magic dissipated, or fed the flames. A vicious kick from Morgana sent the wheel hurtling in his direction - he barely scrambled out of the way and headfirst into a suit of armour.

Morgana was about to realise that for all her inventive magic, she was outmatched against Merlin. As he rose from the heap of metal and shook himself off, he muttered something - she could just catch it - he was asking for help. Master Yen would not interfere, certainly - but -

The suits of armour were moving. Slowly, they stepped from their pedestals and shuffled in her direction. Merlin saw a flash of fear in the girl's eyes, for Morgana knew more about the magic that had been woven into castles and cities than he had ever learned. Sure, he knew he could ask a suit of armour for help, but Morgana, seeing the confusion on his face, realised that he didn't know he had effectively left her powerless. Whatever direct attack she sent at him, the castle would block it. She wasn't that much good at attacks anyway, and defensive magic was her best angle - even if she did use it sometimes as a weapon, trapping her opponent within a protective spell.

But now, she probably couldn't even do that. And the old guardians, even if the suits and statues were heavy, their bulk was deceptive: they moved quickly enough. Morgana broke into a run for the stairs - the halls, she knew, were well guarded. Statues, armour, gargoyles - they were all out for her now. They wouldn't hurt her, but they could trap her - and she couldn't hurt Merlin. Sitting under a defensive net and waiting for him to exhaust his strength bombarding her also wasn't particularly appealing - he was trained, after all, and a year older: he might outmatch her for endurance. But she could run.

The stairs trembled a little underfoot - she thought, for a moment, that they might become a smooth slide beneath her feet. By all rights they should have, actually, but as she skipped lightly up to the second level, they merely quaked a little. Only when she'd reached the very top landing, she turned around and brought one foot down hard on the top step. Some of the guardians were already halfway to her when the stairs smoothed out beneath them, and they crashed down in a noisy mess. The girl fled onward, just barely skirting a nasty sting from Merlin below.

She had to think where she could go, especially since the castle was no longer on her side. She'd only been through some parts of it, and rather late at night. She had to keep moving, to find passageways without a guard. Even a portrait could draw attention to her at the moment - she'd seen it happen.


	9. Castles Fold

The King was a happy man indeed: he smiled and puffed and rubbed his palms together as he paced up and down the treasury dungeon's length. His interest lay in one particular shelf, the shelf that held the coronets fit for a princess, or a young future queen. He had just the girl in mind for his son, and he had to find just the perfect crown for her.

Of course, he knew, he could have one made. After all, she wasn't really of his land, and where she was from, there were no crowns, no kings, no princes. Anything he could order made for her would likely be a better fit for a girl so alien in his lands. But there was one here, he remembered it from the days he was a lad, a perfect circlet for a princess as beautiful as ice and frost, and as gentle and heartwarming a cup of hot cocoa shared on the hearth of the library fireplace in winter.

And suddenly it was before him, dazzling with its small diamonds and sapphires. It was the coronet that had the distinction of having been worn by the one other foreign queen his land had known. She had brought as part of her modest dowry, for the kingdom had been prosperous then and the man who loved her cared for little more than to bind his fate to her own, for better or worse. The King smiled as he knelt down before the circlet and bowed his head. His mother had made his father and all their subjects blindingly happy, but had died when he was still young, leaving behind warm memories for them all. No one was worthy of wearing her crown but his son's true love, and at last, he had found that very person.

He always knew, if he thought about something hard enough down here in the vaults, it would appear to him without fail. The King picked up the prized circlet reverently, turned back to the room at the door before he left, and uttered a warm 'thank you'. The room at large seemed to give a single silent nod, with the air of an old experienced butler who knew exactly what you wanted before you thought to ask.

The engagement was to be announced quite soon - to the girl herself. When she had first appeared in the kingdom, he had watched with especial fondness as the friendship between her and his son blossomed. Just last year, she had returned from training with one of her people in the mountain passes far away, more beautiful than before and as graceful and poised as ever, and the King had been pleased to see the growing fondness she had for the prince. He was immeasurably delighted to find that his son felt much the same way for her. There could not be a better match, and he considered himself lucky indeed.

The King strode purposefully into his throne room, where a pedestal had already been set at the ready to hold the coronet, on the raised dais that usually held only the thrones. But today, the thrones had been moved back behind the tapestries. Gently, he placed the box down and centered it, unlocked it with the key he wore on a chain about his neck, and raised the lid. "Call the Lady Miranda and her eldest daughter here," he said to his page boy, who instantly obeyed. For a moment longer the King marveled at the priceless artefact, then turned and made his way down the steps from the dias. He'd barely stepped down from it when a powerful sneeze stopped him in his tracks.

"Bless you, Sire" someone offered politely.

"Thank you."

"It's quite an awful chill this early in the year."

"Yes, yes it is," the King agreed.

Then he realised that the voice had issued from directly behind him. He whipped around just in time to see a young man scrambling up a rope back to the high vaulted ceiling. "Well, I'll be -" he muttered, as the thief paused just long enough near the top to throw a wild grin over his shoulder.

"Help!" The King called out imperiously to no one in particular, for his guards already knew not what to do with an airborne fiend. "In the name of your King, stop the thief!"

At this, the rope unexpectedly snapped with a reverberating twang, but the thief landed like a cat and took to his feet through the guards. They barely had presence of mind to move, still unsure whether to be more surprised at the snapped rope or at the man's lucky landing, or perhaps at the audacity with which he'd addressed the King in the very act of robbing him. He took advantage of their confusion and carried himself swiftly out of the throne room through the heavy doors just as they were closing.

Interestingly enough, no one had been pushing them. In fact, aside from the rope's inexplicable break, quite a few odd things were happening, if one cared to notice them: the old suits of armour were stirring from their ancient posts along the walls. The castle itself, at the King's entreaty, had sprung to life.

Outside, the young thief ran as fast as he could for the stairs that would surely lead to an exit, but the moment he set foot on them, the stairs vanished: they smoothed out, sending him sliding feet first at a tremendous speed. With a frightened yelp, he maneuvered just in time to miss the walls at what would have been a landing, and flew into the hall on the lower floor. The ride cast him directly into another suit of armour with a resounding crash. For a moment he paused there to catch his breath, but scrambled away from it with a startled yelp the very moment he recovered, quite simply because he noticed one of the arms wriggling beneath his weight. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a few knights in similar armour advancing.

"Look, uh - I swear, you've got the wrong guy," he began in a panic, backing away as he talked, "I didn't do anything. This madman, he just jumped right out the - the throne room - and he gave chase. At least, I thought he was after me, so I ran - and then I fell down the stairs. I mean, how could you not fall, I mean, look at them, they're not stairs. It's like some kind of slide. I didn't know stairs could do that."

He'd backed quite far by now. "You guys aren't really listening, huh?" he asked, a terrible suspicion dawning on him. He cast his eyes about him for something, anything, found the gauntlet from the suit of armour he'd fallen into, caught it up quickly and flung it at the foremost knight. The gauntlet disturbingly wriggled itself into a defiant fist in mid-flight. Then, even more strangely, the knight caught it, and raised his visor.

The suit was empty.

Well. That was definitely trouble. No stairs, no knights to plead his case with - not that that would have worked, given his experience, but hey, he had to try. Behind him was a large spiral staircase, and as he edged towards it he judged the landings to be mostly stable - the stairs themselves were the problem. But he didn't need his feet, after all: he shot his wild, dangerous grin at the Empty Knights, which somehow made them stop for a moment and cock their heads to one side, curious. "I guess nobody ever runs from you, eh?" he asked, before breaking into a run. In a flash, he leapt over the banister, grabbed hold of it, and hung on for dear life.

From the satchel about his neck he produced a whip, and quickly set about making his way down the staircase, swinging from one side to the other. He even had time to smile at three passing ladies as he flew by. Miranda watched with some interest, and remarked in passing, "Well, that's one way to take the stairs."

"It's a pretty good way," the youngest of the group replied.

"Oh, Morgana - please don't, or I'll never send you away to learn magic." Morgana shrugged and said nothing. "Away to the library with you, then. Anuk, how do the stairs look, can we make it to the throne room?"

The thief had flown down five flights by now, and decided it was about the right level to stop at and find an exit. Oddly, though, as he ran out into the hall, he discovered that it was as brightly lit by its floor-length windows as before, and the roofs he caught sight of were rather the same as before. He should have been looking up at them by now. And if that weren't suspicious enough, the fact that he found himself facing the heavy oaken doors of the throne room again definitely stopped him in his tracks.

Three more attempts he made at escaping the castle. He struggled up the stairs instead of down, only to find himself in the same hall again. He ran away from those doors and tried every door, thinking he might hide until the search ended, but every door stood fast against his efforts. Running down the hall, away from the doors one minute, he found himself running to the throne room the next. It was becoming the most disorienting experience of his life, and it was messing with a perfectly good getaway. He even threw himself out one window, swinging across to another tower, only to discover himself standing in the same place again. The hall was, all the while, mysteriously empty, though he had no time to consider the implications of this strange matter.

At last he turned and dove for the nearest hiding place - behind a tapestry, across the hall from a painting of a beautiful woman. The thief took a moment to appreciate the fact that the circlet resting upon her regal head was the very same that he had stolen, and congratulated himself. It was a rare piece indeed.

As he stood with bated breath, he heard the measured approach of the Empty Knights. They stopped when they reached the tapestry, and the thief froze in his place. A low, melodious voice suddenly said, "He's behind there," and a ringing silence followed. For a moment, he dared to hope that he'd imagined it.

Then the strong metal grip of three Knights forced him into the open. They dragged him back to the throne room and deposited him on his knees before the King.

"Nice, uh, guards, you got there," he stammered, scrambling back up to his feet as they let him go. One suit of armour held out his satchel to the King, who took it gingerly, and produced the circlet.

"Yeah - about that - " the thief began hurriedly, "don't know how it got there. I was just - "

"Right," the King spoke over him quickly, with a slight smile. "Of course. You were just walking around the castle, sightseeing. You're a traveler, you're not from these parts."

"Right," he finished quickly, quite confused by this turn of events.

"Uh-huh," the King hummed, amused. "Anika, Dragonlady, this man stands accused of stealing a precious artifact. How do you find?"

Only then did the thief see two of the women he'd flown past on the stairs. The younger woman, a tall pale blonde with delicate features, as if she'd been carved from ice and snow, stepped forward. He was instantly struck by how beautiful she was, how alien in this castle. And yet, she inhabited it as if this world fitted her like a glove.

She walked right up to him, looking up into his eyes, for he was taller. It was a relief not to be looked down upon from that dais. "Do you think it's beautiful?" she asked, an openness and honesty in her face like none he'd seen before in his life.

"I do," he admitted, glancing up at the circlet balanced on the King's hand.

"A rare piece, too," she went on, looking back at it herself. "It would be a shame if it never saw the light of day."

"Probably."

"Tell me, traveler, what's your name?" she asked, turning back to him. There was a fierce truthfulness in her manner, in her very gaze - eyes blue as glacial ice, binding him to return with truthfulness.

For a moment he tried to stop himself, but he gave in at last: "Flynnigan Rider," he said.

"And what do you want, most of all? You don't want that circlet, not for yourself, at least."

Flynnigan stared at her, surprised. She did seem genuinely curious. And as he opened his mouth to speak, the room fell away, and there was no one besides her to hear him.

"I want to travel the world," he said, "I want to see faraway places, to sail my own ship around the world. Of course, I don't actually have a ship. And I don't have the money to buy a ship, so -"

Anika nodded with a smile. "So you steal things." Suddenly she held out her hand to him, in which he saw a large, beautiful jewel.

"It's called the Heart of the Sea," she said. "Take it."

His jaw fell before he could form a coherent thought. "What?" - was about all he managed.

"It's enchanted. If given as a gift, the owner receives with it a kind of good luck charm for the rest of his life. If stolen, however, the thief is terribly unlucky for the rest of his life, unless he redeems himself. I am giving it to you as a gift. Buy yourself a ship, and see the world," she said, "not everyone gets to do that. And next time, don't be stealing from magical castles, Flynnigan Rider."

"So..." he recovered slowly, "I'm free to go?"

The King laughed. "If Anika lets you go, you are free to go!"

"But the castle might think otherwise," Anika added. "It'll let you out, don't worry. Eventually."

"Eventually?" he cried.

"The sooner you go," the King hinted. "And I might still change my mind."

Flynnigan took the hint, rushed a quick bow and hurried off.

* * *

><p>The King, meanwhile, having recovered from a bout of merry laughter, turned to Anika and Miranda.<p>

"Now then," he thundered cheerfully, "the real reason I have called you here today. Anika, my dear child, what do you think of that coronet?"

Anika, confused, eyed the circlet again carefully, and remarked appreciatively, "It's very beautiful. The jeweler was one of the best of his craft, but the style is not of Arendelle. It is one of the most delicately worked I've ever seen, and it is very precious to you."

The King smiled even more widely, if that were possible. "Correct. Anika, the circlet is yours."

Miranda started, and Anika was so confused she thought she'd heard wrong, and dismissed the statement entirely. "I beg your pardon, Sire?" her mother whispered.

"I've been watching my son for quite some time," the King began, stepping forward and raising the young girl's chin until he could look her in the eye, "and I have found no other person with whom he can be his true self. You both love each other, this much I can tell. Once he returns from his journey about the world, you, my child, will marry him. If you'll have him, of course."

Anika stared for a few dangerous seconds, as the King was beginning to suspect that he had wholly misjudged the situation. But at last the words sunk in, and an expression of pure happiness bloomed on her lovely young face. He laughed, relieved and overjoyed.

Miranda, behind her, did not look quite so carefree. The moment Anika was free to go, she hung back.

"Well, my Lady Miranda? Do you disapprove of the match?"

"Not at all, Sire. But are you quite certain that he will still have her, upon his return? Travel and time change a man," she pointed out.

"Travel and time make men of boys," the King replied, "but I do see your point. In truth, I had discussed the matter with my son before he left. If his heart should change its inclination, the burden will be upon him to tell her. I, however, shall be very sorry not to see your eldest daughter wed into this family."

"Dragons never ruled, Sire," Miranda remarked.

The King nodded readily, well aware of her implication. "Yes, I know, no Dragon ever ruled or served. But let me be frank with you, Miranda: I will always value your counsel, and I would entrust few others with the fate of my kingdom. I have seen you raise and educate your daughters. I must assure you that you have given them an education fit for queens, with wisdom both of the mind and of the heart. And I have met no other lady of noble birth of equal mind and poise. I judge none other to be more worthy of the title of future Queen of Arendelle."

Miranda bowed deeply before the King. "You do our family a great honour, Majesty," she said, and withdrew with his permission.


	10. Hall of Mirrors

There were three things Morgana needed to do: first, she needed to find a way to remain undetected. She wondered how Flynnigan had managed it so well. When they finally caught up to him, he had had a decent length of rope, and little else. Then she remembered how he stole the coronet - he had rappelled down the wall, and stolen right from behind the King's back. And there she had her answer: no one ever looks up. Well, levitation was easy enough - easier if she found crossbeams to perch on.

Second: there had to be a way to get them all off her tail. Merlin wasn't likely to call them off, even if he now realised she was being hunted - after all, he had the upper hand. Master Yen had very strict rules: until one of them surrenders, they continue to compete, with breaks only for the required lessons - which he had the authority to call off, if he so desired. She couldn't attack Merlin brazenly, either, so she would have to do that subtly to keep him at bay. Perhaps, she thought, she should consider attacking the castle in general, and just accidentally brushing past Merlin in the process.

Third - she needed to find a place to rest, at least for an hour at a time - a place with no portraits, no guards, no nonsense. Well, that too was almost easy, really: the library was a fair enough place, once you got past the first three meters and were hidden amongst the shelves. And better still, her own library, her home just on the other side of the fireplace - now that was the perfect place to stay. It occurred to her that even though all the sculptures in the castle might not take to her too kindly just now, at least the Dragons might still be ticklish. They seemed to have a preference for their own brethren.

Getting to the library, that was another problem, especially if the castle realised it was better off changing its conformation to catch her. At least twice now, running from the ballroom to where she thought the library should be, Morgana had turned a corner and found herself somewhere else entirely - somewhere she hadn't yet been. The first time, she'd found herself in a dungeon full of old Empty Knights, and rusty as they were, they also seemed a bit more dangerous - she was just hoping to find another portal now. She ran directly into it, expecting the worst, and found herself in a quiet place somewhere in the upper levels of the palace.

This was something she hadn't expected, even from Master Yen. These halls weren't dark or blood red, they were in natural grey stone, and there were windows everywhere - skylights and domes, tall windows from floor to ceiling, some of clear glass, some stained. There were mirrors on the walls, and there was more light in this part of the castle than she imagined possible. Spots of colour dappled the floor, the mirrors - everything, and if you watched a mirror long enough, you began to notice the colours moving. They danced, as if for an audience. Sometimes the mirrors themselves changed angles to catch other colours. They reminded her very much of the legendary portals to other worlds, but when she approached them, they shifted, as if they were trying to get away from her.

She was beginning to recognise the changes, even if she didn't know the castle itself just yet. They were clever illusions, and if you looked for very specific details - mismatching corridor width or colour, odd lighting, misaligned brickwork - it was easy enough to get by without ending up on the other side of the castle. Pretty soon, she started to notice a particular glow of magic at the portals as well - her eyes were getting used to it, she decided.

What one couldn't solve with a book at hand, one could often solve just through reasoning, and Morgana was beginning to suspect that the castle was not about to give her what she most wanted. That was the point of catching a thief: the thief wanted to escape, so the castle would not let him. If she wanted the library - also a route to escape - the castle would likely try to prevent that as well. So how does one foil a plot to catch a thief?

Or in this case, a deadly attacker. If Merlin knew her goal was to keep him alive this wouldn't be an issue. There was only one problem: neither Merlin not Master Yen appeared to be setting any boundaries, and Anika had been sure to warn her sister of that. Morgana had little to defend herself with, all in all just elemental magic. She found, to her surprise, that when she had first faced the Empty Knights, even Dragon Magic had no power over them, and yet it was Dragon Magic, or at least some derivative form, that had created them. They should have stopped dead in their tracks.

She remembered Master Ben walking her through the city, showing her the Dragons carved and painted in walls and ceilings, subtly worked into the shadows. These were the guardians of the Red City: they were hard to spot, but once you saw them, if you stared long enough, they might turn their heads, smile, or wink back. He told her that they were the Impartial Judges, the guards who would stop a thief or trap a murderer. The idea of murder in the Dragon City was unthinkable to her, and to many others, but Master Ben always thought of things many failed to consider, and this had often proved crucial in the past.

She also remembered the Hall of Mirrors, housed in the uppermost levels of all towers of the city. It had the appearance of being one great hall, but really every tower had an upper room that had been adorned with mirrors, and one could pass through the Red City, somehow, instantly stepping out of one and into another. Only the Council of the Wise seemed to know how. In fact, as Miranda had often told her daughters, the Dragons had only just begun to discover the power of moving between worlds when they built their desert city, and they first attempted to travel within their own.

The Hall of Mirrors here, then, was the one way she could pass from one part of the castle to another, without relying on chance. If only she knew how this fortress was laid out, she thought. And suddenly the mirrors turned themselves inside out and revealed their own strange map.

Morgana gaped. It was three-dimensional, built from the streaming refracted light. She saw the shape of the entire foundation, and then as she approached one point or another she could see the levels below and the hidden corridors and hanging passageways, stairs that moved and rooms that danced around or ceased to exist at certain hours of the day. This, then, was how the castle could fold itself. And now, she had found the key of how to move how she wanted. The library, though, she noticed with a rueful little smile, was still off limits.


	11. They Came From Afar

In the Desert, there stands a city - The Red City, its people call it. Its walls are red as the sands around it, and somewhere below the ground is a network of caves that leads to an aquifer. Years ago, before the Dragons came, this aquifer was believed to be poisonous. People who drank from it were healed of fearsome injuries and deadly diseases, but the price to be paid for their life was one that few were willing to consider. They lived haunted by their worst nightmares, their very worst memories always present in their minds.

When the Dragons came, that all became a thing of the past. They found a way to convert the magic of the water into other forms, and used it to run their city. They used the water to support themselves, and only as much as they needed. For many years they lived peacefully, their city grew and their people prospered. But not far off, the many kingdoms lined along the Blue Serpentine were struggling in their efforts to expand, frequently encroaching on each other's lands and sparking fights among the people. It wasn't long before these sparks ignited a raging wildfire, which roared into a war, and sent many running in the last direction any sane person would have considered, before the Dragons built their city.

The Red City stood in the heart of the desert, pulsing with life - majestic proof that it was possible to not only survive, but flourish in the harshest of environments. And the fugitives flocked to its walls, clamouring for help, for safe haven.

At first, the heavy gates carved with Dragons opened to admit the refugees. Inside the beautiful city, where Magic was as natural as life and breath, the Outsiders, as the Dragons called them warily, were welcomed cautiously. Their injuries were treated, they were given food and water. But many sensed that they were not needed in the city, and finding little to occupy themselves with, the refugees sought help from the Council.

Five masters sat together after the meeting of the Council with the fugitives, quietly pondering what they had seen. The Minevar sat humming to himself in one corner, Jinna sat beside Master Yen, and Miranda watched the younger of her daughters playing at Master Ben's feet, capturing sparks flying from the fireplace and spinning them into all sorts of shapes. Ariel joined them shortly, informing them that Outsiders had returned to the city walls.

"They can't stay here," Jinna said at last. "I know, it sounds awful, but they can't. They don't trust us, and we don't trust them. You said so yourself, Miranda, that is why we came to the desert."

"That doesn't mean we can't help them," Ariel put in quickly. "We must help them. There is no reason to force them back into a war."

"They're cowards," Jinna snarled. "You have to fight for who you are."

"And who are they?" Ben asked quietly, not looking at anyone in particular. "We know who we are. But they don't even know what Kingdom to pledge allegiance to. Their world is so fractured now, all they know is that they are peaceful farmers who need nothing more than to support themselves."

A heavy silence hung over the group again.

"On our way here, we stopped to irrigate villages and give them a livelihood," Miranda spoke at last. "These people still remember how we stopped for three days to cure one child of a deadly fever. We can't turn them away."

"We can't let them into the city either," Yen added. "Jinna is right, after all. Until we learn to trust them, we cannot expect them to trust us either."

The Minevar stirred, his little melody suddenly a little dissonant, but it righted itself quickly. Ariel looked up at him sharply. "Really?" he muttered quietly. "It seems they trust us more than you give them credit for." But he shrugged and shook his head, as if his statement had no significance.

The Minevar continued to hum. "Alright, Miranda," Master Yen pronounced decisively, "tomorrow I'll send you and the Earth Masters out to help lay out the fields and irrigate them. But be sure to inform them that they are not to enter the city unless there is a serious emergency."

With that, he rose to leave, followed by Jinna. Ben said something about getting Morgana off to bed, and with a nod from Ariel and Miranda, he tapped the girl's shoulder. The Minevar stopped his humming and leaned forward to Morgana with a smile, whispering something, and left with them. Miranda and Ariel remained in the empty Council room, staring at the fire as it snapped and frolicked. Desert nights were awfully cold.

"You should speak more firmly," Miranda said quietly.

"I am not even a Council member."

"Every Dragon must be heard, Ariel. The Council presents the Dragons with the facts, and altogether we decide on our course of action. Since when did the dissenters keep their peace? Why did no one in the Council speak?"

Ariel sighed. "The dissenters are few and far between. Consider, we all share a particular distrust for the Outsiders. It is unfortunate, but very much the case."

Miranda shook her head disapprovingly. "We've weathered worse than Outsiders."

"Have we?"

"They've never hurt us."

"Not for lack of trying," Ariel reminded her. "We just seem to be rather hard to kill." He watched her for a time, as she followed the flames leaping about in the fireplace. "What do you make of the Minevar, by the way?" he asked.

"He's disapproving, and resigned. It seems he knows how stubborn his people are."

Ariel agreed. "I rather wish he hadn't resigned."

Miranda shrugged. "Maybe he's just waiting for us to come to our senses."

But the Dragons didn't seem inclined to come to their senses. The Outsiders surrounded the city, where they lived quite independently of the Dragons, and the Dragons continued their quiet pursuit of knowledge within. All together they did their best to ignore the raging war on the horizon, though the Outsiders welcomed any fugitives, and the Dragons begrudgingly admitted amongst themselves that they had no power to ask them to leave.

The growth of the Outsiders' settlement was beginning to strain the modest fields the Dragons had laid out for them. Once, a storm many miles from them had nearly decimated the crop: a natural ice dam in the mountains had broken and unleashed a monstrous flood. The City had been built to withstand such an onslaught, but the villagers were unprepared for it. Their crop was saved by the Water Elementals' timely reaction, but few in the city thanked them for it. They held on to a hope, even as the Outsiders' settlement expanded, that they would come to their senses and leave.

But eventually, the tumult of the war at the Blue Serpentine river reached out and grabbed hold of the Outsiders, and the Dragons faced a choice of either defending them or letting them perish.

"We Dragons cannot agree on much else, but at least we can agree, we will not see innocent people killed," Yen remarked, watching the massing forces in the East.

"We could hold them off easily enough, the question is to see that they never return," Miranda replied. "We could break another dam in the mountains."

"What does the Minevar think?"

"That we should defend them, of course. We have the power to protect them. He is concerned about the drought we've had since that flood, and he seems worried that many Dragons have left the city to help them."

"They're still Dragons, Miranda. I don't know what he's worried about."

Miranda seemed relieved. "You know, Yen, not all of the Council would agree with us on that. They think the ones who have left are traitors of some sort."

Yen shot her a look over his shoulder, surprised. "That - I didn't know. Since when do Dragons hide their suspicions?"

"Since they have learned to distrust their own kind."

"Spells trouble, if you ask me," Yen muttered.

"Very much so. What happens when they come back to the city? This is one of the worst droughts we've ever known."

"We'll have to see," Yen replied with a shrug. "We'll just have to see."


	12. The Flood

The tremendous rush of water raged down the hall, hissing and boiling in Merlin's wake. He cursed and shot back a few spells - completely irrelevant spells - but he should have realised by now that the water consumed his magic and only grew faster and stronger. He should not have scared her. He had come close to killing her sister, but tricking her into some sort of trap while she was in control of a water wall was probably one of the most stupid risks he'd ever taken.

The palace was a maze, a puzzle that couldn't be unraveled by fleeing blindly through unfamiliar areas. Morgana seemed to be on much better footing here - at least, he couldn't see her. He assumed, somehow, that she was behind the wall of water - that was, after all, how they had started. He found himself trapped at the end of a hall, at a spiral staircase leading up into a tower. Merlin already knew he was in one of the upper levels, but the possibility that this tower might lead to another level was remarkably slim. All the same, there was no way down, so he rushed up the stairs.

He had hoped the water would not follow, but he found after at least three storeys of a stitch in his side and a burning cold in his throat, already at least seven storeys up the tower, that the flood had not been deterred. There was a dull ache in his chest and he was losing his footing, there were no doors to escape through, and he could see the top. His only way out was probably a window, but there weren't many of those - certainly not within reach. He pressed on.

Merlin pressed on until he found the ceiling. Here again there was no window a human could fit through, and the roof was sealed. He looked down again at the water, now rising faster than ever. There couldn't be that much of it, surely, he tried to fool himself. There couldn't be more than the wall she'd stayed behind. And he'd survived the deluge before. And yet as hard as Merlin tried to convince himself this time wasn't any different, he couldn't.

Somehow it was different. Somehow, the sight of the water raging beneath him was enough to make him realise just how close he had come to possibly seriously injuring her. She'd held her own well enough against him in the first match, but when he'd set the castle against her, Master Yen had been forced to keep it at bay to hold lessons. He hadn't even reconvened the double lesson: no, he had insisted on tutoring her privately, and far more often that Merlin. At least, that was what he'd claimed. Merlin couldn't be quite certain, but he was beginning to suspect that Morgana had not needed much tutoring. At least once, he heard her refusing Master Yen's help. He couldn't even put his finger on what was more frightening, the possibility that Master Yen had been helping her, or the idea that Morgana, alone, untrained, inexperienced, had bested him. She had, after all, called off the castle on her own.

The water was at his feet now, and rising fast. He scrambled for the roof again, looking for a way to cut through the ceiling. He'd tried transporting himself through the castle before, hoping to find a way not to get lost, but Yen had been particularly careful with his defenses. He couldn't force his way through the enchanted stone walls. But how could he stand back and watch the water rise - rise up to his chest, up to his mouth, his eyes?

The water had torn his feet from the floor on which he'd stood by then, and he was scrambling, treading the turbid water with little success - it was too disorganised, pushing him up and pulling him down by turns. It lifted him all the way up the ceiling, which he'd barely been able to scrape at first, but now suddenly there was no rock at his fingers. Merlin gasped and kicked hard, giving himself seconds to look up - up at two small hands reaching down, and to feel the cold night air rushing into his face. It was a trick hatch, a hatch he probably hadn't noticed in his panic, with a lock that he could have triggered if he'd known where to look.

As his hands went up in surrender, a plea for help, his head fell beneath the surface again - but a powerful pull brought him up into the cold wintry night and flung him aside to the battlements. He landed lightly, without injury. He could hear the water receding, falling below, a slave to two whispered words of the girl who stood at the trapdoor looking down at it. His breath caught in his throat as her eyes suddenly turned on him. That same look he'd seen, when he'd attacked her - it was still there, but as fear began to creep through him, it dulled.

Morgana swept Merlin's hair back, revealing a proud, noble brow and a scathing glare. She found herself laughing, almost unintentionally, at that unkind look. "A good sparring partner is hard to come by," she told him matter-of-factly, brushing back his hair with her long, delicate fingers. A faint trickle of magic ran through them, and through Merlin, leaving him warm and dry. "And where would I be if you caught your death of cold?"

He raised his hand cautiously to the crown of his head. "Why did you do that?"

Morgan shrugged. "I think it looks better this way."

Merlin stared at her, amazed at how brazen she was to just be sitting there.

"Don't look like that, I know you can't cast so much as an illusion at the moment. Until you can hide or mask your current strength, I refuse to worry."

Merlin smiled. "How will you know when I do?"

"I'll be worried," Morgana said simply. He sighed, marvelling at her simple reply. She had surprised him often with either taking his blows or letting him attack. He was sure it frequently damaged her more than she let on, but she was a hardy creature, and much of her magic, though she definitely studied her art, was intuitive - creatively woven and bent to serve her needs.

"Why the water?" he asked flatly, as if it didn't matter, really, just something he wanted to confirm.

Morgana shrugged. "It's my element. You know of the Three Sisters? My mother Miranda, my aunts Ursula and Aurora? Aurora can manipulate morning fog and dew. Ursula is at home in the deep sea. She always got into all sorts of fights with my mother - so I suppose it's only fitting that my mother can raise the deadliest storms a sailor ever knew. I inherited power over the seas, but I can control rain, too, if I like. My elder sister, Anika, she has dominion over ice and snow. And my younger sister, Leyna - well, we don't know what she is, yet."

Merlin nodded. "It's a powerful family. A great old lineage." His tone was - reverent, perhaps even a little bitterly envious.

"I suppose," Morgana sighed heavily. "Magic isn't always traceable by lineage. It's actually quite changeable. Did you inherit yours?"

"I don't know. Master Yen found me on the mountains, alone, in a storm. That's what he told me. He said he took me in and trained me as his apprentice because he figured I was an orphan, or just lost. He said no one could have survived that storm for very long. So he took me in."

Morgana blinked. "You believe that?

"Why shouldn't I? I don't have any family - only Master Yen. He found me, he took me in."

She shook her head. "I just thought, with all the time you'd spent in the library, you'd have found out."

"Found out what?" Merlin eyed her suspiciously, then smiled. "Not everyone learns as much from books as you do, Morgana. What did you find?"

"I didn't learn it from the library, but I've seen the books there. You spend too much time in the dark sections. I recognise your magic, Merlin. It's quite powerful, and a pretty old lineage as well," she said quietly. "Dragon magic is a strange thing. It has been known to grant some a second chance - even a rebirth, in some cases. Many people would place no limits on what they would give, merely to understand your gifts and abilities."

Merlin stirred. "Dragon magic," he uttered, surprised and incredulous. "Morgana, have you ever seen a dragon? They're stuff of legend - at least, the ones you mean. But the dragons in this world - they're just large snakes with legs that cough up fire."

The girl laughed. "Whatever you think you've seen, that's not how Dragons look. Those were their guard dogs - real Dragons built a kingdom in the deadliest desert in the world, long before Agrabah took hold there. That's why that land has such potent and so frequently unpredictable magic - we poured so much of our own into it. Here - let me show you."

She sprang to her feet and onto the battlements. For a moment Merlin marvelled at how she moved, as if she were weightless, her feet just brushing at the ground. Before he could warn her that she might fall, Morgana turned and dived. Apart from a momentary shock, Merlin trusted her to know how to keep herself aloft. He scrambled to look over the battlements - and nearly toppled after her in amazement.

She wasn't so much falling as gliding, a silver light catching at her fingertips, shooting through her arms until the flying figure was ablaze. A dragon - a small one, but an intrepid, marvellous dragon of gold and rosy, copper-coloured scales, wheeled in the air regally. There was little about it that resembled a snake. If anything, as it landed and crept along the wall, its movements were almost feline. Looking past the scales, one focused sooner on the pointed lynx-like ears, on the pearly fangs that just barely crept out of a dangerous grin. Talons curving from the scaly feet ticked along the stone.

Though a large reptile, proportionally the Dragon sooner resembled a Griffin. Even in a world of magic, there was something about this creature that made it seem alien, outlandish, misplaced. And yet, it was familiar to him, a creature both warm and comforting. Much like Morgana herself, it reminded him of a friendly cat. He reached out tentatively, then more boldly put a hand on the dragon's head. She pressed back against it exactly like a cat, and purred, much to his amusement.

Then Morgana turned to the sunset and breathed an opalescent fog into the air in front of her. It caught the red glow of the evening and slowly began to take shape of a gateway - a small window into a world far in the past. As he looked into the gateway, he saw a desert instead of the mountain reach before, and in it a remote, small dark speck fast approaching him within the magical frame. The speck grew into a dot, and then larger and larger -

It was a city. It was a large - no, a massive metropolis, colossal. The towers seemed as though they had been grown - so high, so tall, curved, nearly spherical domes and rippling columns and walls. They looked like blown glass. The foundation was more geometric, as if it had been laid by mathematicians.

"The Red City," Morgana said, standing beside him in human form once more. "Look at the people."

They were not dragons - in fact they looked very human. Then a few of them raised their arms, and sparkling ethereal wings unfolded beneath them, stretching beyond the hand. They floated up into the air, to the hanging walkways between the towers.

"Dragons are not born from fire, although it's easy to see how the myth arose. What the world called fire was really a characteristic form of magic, red as copper, a fire that did not harm you as it burned, and was both there and not there at the same time. All Dragons had that, and all had their unique gift - dominion over air, sea, lands, rivers, metals, the very land itself - a special gift that was theirs alone. They were the only ones who could survive the desert. Pretty soon, their great city was surrounded by villagers - stragglers and nomads who found a safe and livable place. The City was conflicted. They wanted to protect, and yet not to dominate these people - they were not their subjects, after all."

"What about the ruling family?" Merlin asked.

Morgana smiled and shook her head. "There were no ruling families. Or, I suppose, they were all ruling families. They all shared the same magic, after all - not a single one of them could have power over the others, and the only power they all served was knowledge. That was the secret of the Dragon world: not one of them could fool another."

"Their magic protected them from hurting each other?"

"Yes - and no. They could read, if not thoughts, then intentions in each others' magic. They lacked that connection with any others, and it was hard to trust outsiders."

"So how did the city fall? Did the Outsiders attack?"

"No, they would never have been powerful enough. The truth is, the Dragons betrayed themselves. They tore themselves apart, and the Outsiders destroyed what was left. Agrabah was built on the ruins of the old city in less than months - it was magical in itself, just how fast that world came into being, as if all it wanted was to bury the pain of the past. Dragons didn't want the Outsiders to be reliant on them, and they thought the best way to ensure that was to keep all the knowledge they collected a secret from the ones outside the Red City. It was an unfortunate series of mistakes and errors in judgment."

Merlin nodded. "Master Yen is the same, isn't he? He wants us to figure things out on our own. He says magic is more powerful that way."

"Every discovery is more powerful if you've made it for yourself, because you believe in it. And that is especially true of magic. Master Yen doesn't teach us much more than the smallest basic steps, but he at least explains what we don't understand. The Dragons didn't even do that. Some of the renegade Dragons left the Red City to help the outsiders, but in the end they decided to return, to stage a quiet, peaceful coup - they thought, for the better."

He could see where this was going. "But it didn't work."

"Of course not. The coup became a long and bloody revolution. The City Dragons believed their renegade counterparts were traitors, even though no Dragon had ever been able to betray another."

"If they could read intentions, how could they believe that? I thought you said they couldn't hurt each other?"

"But because they believed that the others had betrayed them, their magic could no longer protect them from each other. Fear is very powerful, Merlin, and it warps even the sight of the wisest. Some lucky families escaped - some before the magic failed, some after. That's why some Dragons still believe."

"Like you?"

"And you, I suspect."

"I've hurt you, and I almost killed your sister."

"You've never actually succeeded. And until this moment, you never even suspected that you could be a Dragon."

"How can it be a good thing, not being able to protect yourself against someone who threatens you? Another Dragon - one who doesn't care that you're like them?" Merlin was visibly worried by the implications. Morgana, perhaps, didn't realise it was because he knew Master Yen would continue to pit them against each other.

"Believing that you couldn't hurt a Dragon, that's important, but also impractical. You have to believe, above all, that you must survive - that's the very reason they couldn't hurt each other in the first place. They lived in the middle of the most treacherous desert in the world, of course they had to trust each other. If another Dragon threatens you, it no longer matters what they are. The fall of the Red City proved that."

"Can you teach me?" he asked suddenly.

Morgana smiled. "If you can learn."


	13. The Fall

"I think you should go."

Miranda spun around to face Master Ben. "I have no intention of running from this."

"You really should rethink that, this could get bloody."

"And where do you propose we go? With Morgana, who doesn't yet know how to control her magic? Leaving the city alone might set her back. And Leyna? We don't even know what she is yet - taking her from this place could prevent her from showing any signs of magic for years to come! You know that's our biggest flaw, just as it is our greatest gift: we are so reliant on each other, that when apart we progress far more slowly."

"And imagine what will happen to their magic if the city tears itself apart," Ben insisted. "I promise you, it looks a lot like that right now."

They were interrupted by Yen's sudden appearance. "The Council meeting is getting ugly," he reported. "Never thought I'd see the day the 'Wise' behaved like petty children. What's this then? Miranda, you look thoroughly scandalised."

"Oh, nothing. Master Ben was just suggesting I flee the city," she snapped.

"For once, I agree with him," Yen nodded quickly.

"You're not leaving, though, are you?" Miranda asked pointedly.

Yen, though he seemed rather unsettled and flustered, managed a breathy laugh. "Where would I go?"

"Exactly. Where would we go? Morgana is making dust devils, and Anika makes it snow at night."

The Fire Master shrugged. "Find a place in the mountains by the sea?" he suggested. "Preferably not near an intermittently active volcano, by the way."

Ben nodded. "There's a good place far north of here, I'll show you. Yen, why did you leave the Council meeting?"

"The Minevar is missing, I was wondering if he was here. He's is beginning to worry me."

"I think Morgana may be with him," Miranda told him, but found she could not dismiss the ring of worry in her voice. "That's odd, he really should be at the Council meeting."

He waved at them, disappointed, and turned to leave. "And listen to Master Ben," Yen added, "I'm going back to the Council to see if I can calm them down. Oh - Ariel -" he caught the Air Elemental just as he entered the room, "please, old friend, tell your wife, the sooner you both leave the city, the better it will be for your daughters. Apparently Master Ben isn't quite at his most persuasive today."

Ariel, unflappable as always, gave a brisk nod and turned to Miranda and Ben. "Master Ben, you are right, as always. Miranda, before you argue, I can't find the girls."

"Probably with the Minevar. Morgana wouldn't be anywhere else," Ben told him.

"Even if you're right, you'll never leave this place," Miranda pressed on.

"That's true," Ariel nodded. "A little hypocritical, don't you think?"

Ben stared at him, marveling at the sly smile he could see just under the surface. "Whose side are you on, anyway? Look: I built this city. I will never leave my home, and I will stay with her until the fall."

"Her - you mean the city?" Ariel interjected, with an air of amusement that he was trying desperately to drown in seriousness.

"Right," Ben said insistently.

"And we can't stay. Because we didn't contribute at all," Ariel said evenly, sarcasm pooling in his words now, as he could no longer hide his smile.

"You both have a family to protect. It wouldn't be right for them to see this. Who knows, this may yet blow over. Wishful thinking, of course, but there is a chance. Please, just for a while?"

Miranda and Ariel exchanged saddened looks, and nodded. "For them, the world," Ariel muttered.

"And all its wonders," she finished.

* * *

><p>The Minevar was slowly making his way out of the city. The world around him was in chaos, and the arguments caused such a racket in his head - if only he could leave, he might be able to think again, to understand how to stop them from such a terrible folly. It wasn't long before he realised he was being followed.<p>

"Ah," he turned around, discovering Anika, Morgana, and Leyna.

"Little Dragons," he smiled, "following me around, eh? Smart, smart - follow the survivor. But listen now: from this moment you are the survivors - hmm? Do you understand? Yes?" He looked down at their faces. "No," he sighed. They were only children, after all. "Children, poor little Dragons. You know it's all falling apart, don't you?"

They were such an unusual family, even among Dragons. Anika, born in a desert, had somehow found her footing in snow and ice. Morgana could command oceans from afar - Ariel had taught her a few things about weather-working, and alone she could already bring a light and pleasant rain. Leyna, he could tell, would someday have truly promising gifts of her own. But even now, all three stood out from the others in their command of Dragon Magic.

Dragon Magic was the upper echelon, the stepping stone to flexibility in all elements. It connected all of them, an ancient bond that helped one Dragon call another's powers into service if they were needed. It was easier to use, sometimes, than Elemental Magic, but far more difficult to understand. Perhaps, because of this particular command of Dragon Magic, they seemed able to produce more than most children their age. Magical exhaustion was no small thing among children - sometimes, even among Council Members.

With a sigh, he crouched down before them. "All you have learned, all you have seen in this city, it is yours forever. We teach our children the best we have to offer. Never let anyone convince you that everything about us was evil and wrong, and always remember that you don't have to be _'one of us'_" - here he mocked the words of the Council scathingly - "to be a true Dragon. For, the most important traits are our curiosity, our patience, and an open heart."

"I have a gift for each of you," he said, reaching into a pouch at his hip. "For Anika: The Heart of the Sea. This jewel gives the bearer good luck for all their life, if it comes to them by chance or is given as a gift. If stolen, it condemns the thief to an awful lot of misfortunes. For this reason, don't keep it with you long. If you find that it falls among thieves, it may be well to retrieve it, it's a dangerous bit of magic to throw around." The Minevar opened his hand, and a beautiful blue jewel sparkled in his palm.

"For little Leyna," he continued, with warm a smile, "many gifts you have of your own already. It will take time to discover them, but one particular gift you have in greater force than either of your sisters is patience, and it will serve you well. You must remember that you will always have your sisters' love." He reached out and laid a hand on her head for a brief instant. "There: now, should you ever need help, all you need do is call out to them, and they will find you. Even among sisters, this is a rare gift."

Finally, he turned to the middle sister, Morgana. "Little Dragon, you are a strange one. I sense, you have a heart of gold, and yet your pursuit of knowledge is so single-minded. Your curiosity is the very thing that motivated our first ancestors, and quite equal to their own in force. There must be room in that heart for all the world. It is just possible, you know, to awaken gifts in Dragons. Unusual, but, I think - I can just manage it," he muttered, reaching for her hands. He closed his eyes and bent his head down to her brow.

"One day, you would become a great Healer," he said, sitting back after a moment, "but now, you can start a little sooner." The Minevar smiled. "Now, Little Dragons, I'd best go outside the city to clear my head. Anyway, if they see their Immortal Minevar amongst the poor Outsiders, there is a chance they may yet relent."

Morgana shook her head, but said nothing. "I know," he said, seeing the rather dejected looks on the girls' faces. "It won't end well at all. But while there's hope, it's worth hanging on to. Master Ben is trying to convince your parents to leave the City. I rather think he may be right."

* * *

><p>Miranda was scouring the library tower, looking for her girls. If Morgana wasn't with Ben, she was in the library with her sister, but this time there was no sign of the two troublemakers, or even of the youngest, Leyna. Leyna was too young to show any signs of magic, but she enjoyed watching her sisters. Perhaps they were on one of the training platforms near the school.<p>

Distracted by the thought, Miranda ran full tilt around a corner into Master Jinna.

"Miranda! They're not on a training platform, they're up in your rooms - stop panicking like that, I can hear you through the walls," Jinna cried. "What's the matter, anyway?"

"Master Ben has been trying to convince me to leave," Miranda muttered under her breath. Somehow, she felt compelled to tell Jinna, to convince her to leave. Jinna was a powerful force amongst the Dragons, and if anyone could survive in the outside world, it had to be her. Miranda grabbed her arm and pulled her into a corner with Dragons painted and carved all over the walls and ceilings - a place for private thought or conversation. It was one of those rare additions that Master Ben had worked into the structure of the Red City, but he told few of these sanctuaries.

"What do you mean, leave the City, how can he do that?" Jinna asked, surprised.

Miranda shook her head. "He's not going anywhere. He's staying for the City itself, not for the others."

Jinna couldn't believe her ears. "Miranda, how can he say that?"

"Tell me, Jinna, since when did the Dragons split into factions, hide thoughts from each other? Since when did the Council of the Wise deteriorate into brawls and spats and political machinations?"

"Since you stopped going," Jinna snapped.

"Incorrect. I stopped going because of the dissonance, the chaos. The Minevar hung on a little longer, but even he stopped paying attention. You remember him, humming to himself like he couldn't be bothered? He was humming to drown out that chaos, and I have a feeling it affected him far worse than us. He's old, he hears twenty generations of Dragons, dead and gone, in his head, and now we're making a right mess of everything we ever stood for."

"Master Yen would laugh at him."

"Master Yen also told me to leave," Miranda said quietly. If nothing else could sway Jinna, Yen's word was the final word.

She looked up at Miranda suddenly, tears forming in her eyes. "He's not leaving either, is he?"

The Water Elemental shook her head. "No. Jinna, listen to me: you were the first of us to suggest that we split up and head to the other kingdoms, make a living for ourselves as masters of some chosen craft. You could do that, you would survive it, and you are the one who could convince the others. This is no longer about us being united by a single magical bond. If fighting breaks out - Jinna, that bond may dissolve altogether. We can't know for sure, but it's possible. Please, gather as many as you can, and run."

Miranda strode out of the corner and down the hall, towards her rooms. Before she was completely out of sight, Jinna called out, "Where is the Minevar?"

Miranda turned as she walked, and called back sadly, "Gone. He was seen passing through the main gate."

And that, for so many, sealed the fate of the Red City.


	14. In Closing

It occurred to him now that he had probably made a terrible mistake.

Really, a very bad one.

Morgana had begged him not to go, had she not? And had he himself not said that the hope of all future Dragons lay in that one clever little girl? Now he stood covered in dust, with the point of a knife in his back, blood trickling from his cracked lip. He felt powerless, suddenly, like a weak little puppet, for he could not move. It was that knife, more than surely: it had control over Dragons.

That was a mystery in itself: no Dragon could have control over another, so it was not forged by a Dragon - but who could know their magic so well, and their weaknesses so intimately, if not another Dragon?

In answer to his unspoken question, a dry and creaking voice, one that had not perhaps been used in centuries, rattled the air about his ears. He heard the hissing of a snake in it, and the cold shrillness of a banshee or a wraith - creatures that had no place in this world. "Well, Great Minevar, it's been quite some time, has it not?"

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes:<em>

_Flynnigan Rider - not the one you may be thinking of. As this story is set in the history of the world of Once Upon a Time, this particular Flynnigan Rider is the original, the one who inspired a book of fantastical tales of his voyages around the world. Someday, this legend would inspire a young orphan, Eugene Fitzherbert, to take his name and follow in his footsteps. Few stories tell of how the rich and adventurous Flynnigan began, and, I suspect, Eugene would be rather surprised to find out that their stories were so much alike._

_This is the end of Part One. The Red City has fallen. In the spirit of OUAT, expect more flashbacks in future installments - particularly, in Part Two: Welcome To Agrabah - coming soon! (-ish? Maybe? Winter break is almost over… I guess we'll see.)_


End file.
